


The Rejection

by jepifish



Series: Ferdithea Angst [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Academy phase, Angst, F/M, Ferdinand's POV, Loose Canon, Lots of Angst, Minor sex references, Post B-support, Pre-Timeskip, Romantic Friendship, ferdithea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jepifish/pseuds/jepifish
Summary: On what should be a perfect autumn afternoon for tea, Ferdinand finds himself in a situation that leaves him with no other option but to hurt Dorothea's feelings.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir & Dorothea Arnault, Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Series: Ferdithea Angst [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668373
Comments: 13
Kudos: 60





	The Rejection

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the events of "Within These Hands" and the Battle of the Eagle and Lion Black Eagles' cut scene. Very loose canon.

The crisp leaves of the trees floated to the ground like sparks of a dying fire. A hum of excited chatter, like that of a bumblebee taking flight, filled the air. The students of Garreg Mach’s Officer’s Academy were sprawled out on the grass of the garden, basking in the rays of a pleasant afternoon sun. Books, scrolls, and pieces of parchment littered the ground upon which they lounged lazily as they neglected their studies to relax in the gentle breeze that rustled through the trees amid the growing chaos in Fódlan.

There was a slight chill in the air, but that didn’t matter.

It was the perfect autumn day: a perfect time for a cup of tea.

But Ferdinand had let his cup of sweet-apple blend turn lukewarm.

Dorothea was lounging besides him on the knitted picnic blanket that she had suggested they use instead of their usual seats at the garden tables by the gazebo in the flower garden. It was far from proper, having high tea on a small picnic blanket on the crowded grass, but Dorothea had suggested that it was the perfect time for Ferdinand to drop his noble airs and be casual for once. Enjoy the sun like a simple commoner would.

Of course, she had been teasing him. Her could tell by the gleam in her emerald eyes that she had not really expected him to take her up on her offer to bask under the sun, legs a spread, balancing a cup and saucer on one knee (a sight Lorenz would surely scorn upon should he have the chance to behold it). He knew her well enough by now to know that she intended to mock him once he politely declined. Instead, he chose to entertain her suggestion.

Not to avoid the mocking. No, not at all. The mocking was endearing now.

Ever since their victory at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, they had somehow fallen into the routine of taking tea together several times a week. There was no need to schedule the meetings. Sometimes, a bored Dorothea would slide next to Ferdinand in the dining hall to ask if he had any evening plans a smile of delight breaking upon her face every time he affirmed that he had none.

He always made sure to keep his evenings after class free.

Despite how it might have looked to onlookers (Ferdinand _did_ pay attention to the idle gossip of students, after all), the time the pair spent together was by no means a courtship. Yet, that did not disappoint him in the slightest.

Oh, how different things were now! Ferdinand’s good deeds and noble endeavours must have been recognised by the Goddess, for Dorothea no longer treated him with an open disdain. _She_ actually sought out _his_ company! Dorothea smiled at him with sincerity, her laughter filled his ears like a glorious hymn, and even when she reproached him it was in earnest, not out of spite.

Of course, Dorothea still maintained an unspoken boundary between them. There were certain topics Ferdinand knew he would not be able to approach without risking falling back on all of the progress he had made. He had learnt how to choose his words with greater care, to read her facial expressions, the change in the pitch of her voice, the shift in her body language, all to avoid flippantly piercing a sharp thorn into Dorothea’s wounds with his words.

He would not pry into the dark crevices of Dorothea’s mind.

Ferdinand would wait.

He hoped that the comfortable warmth that hung between their silences now was a sign that Dorothea was beginning to trust him.

That they were becoming real friends.

Yet, despite the fact that Ferdinand could feel the heat from Dorothea’s shoulder as she leaned casually against him, he felt further away from her than ever before. There was an unnerving frost emanating from her. One that he had never felt. The feeling terrified Ferdinand far more than any passionate fury she could unleash at him.

Dorothea had barely taken a sip of her tea when her mood had begun to change. All it took was laughter that was a touch too loud and persistent coming from behind her to wash away her prior excitement and fill her face with dread. Ferdinand watched as the colour in her cheeks slowly drained away, as her sincere smile was painted over with her prima donna perfection, and the gleam in her emerald eyes dulled.

That was when she had leaned against him, stretching her legs out across the picnic blanket, and turning her face towards the brazen laughter and voices.

He so badly wanted to tell Dorothea to ignore the incessant cackling and unashamed glances that kept being directed towards them. To tell her that it was just idle gossip. That it did not matter.

But he knew it would make things worse.

He was not a fool. He knew what people would say having seen them now. What had already been said for the past month.

What had been said about Dorothea.

Ferdinand cleared his throat and began to stir his lukewarm tea too loudly for convention, but Dorothea’s attention would not shift from the group of gossiping students. The more she concentrated on them, the closer she seemed to lean into Ferdinand, as if she did so deliberately. To seek out some kind of provocation.

The air felt dry and thick in Ferdinand’s lungs. As if he were in the middle of a desert during high noon.

“Dorothea,” Ferdinand pressed a gentle palm against her shoulder increasing the distance between their bodies, “Is the tea not to your liking?”

Still leaning against his shoulder, Dorothea turned her head to face Ferdinand who could not help but grow flush at the frankness of her closeness, “Oh, no! This tea is my favourite! Why ever do you ask?”

Something in her tone sounded artificial.

“I only ask because it was you, Dorothea, who suggested we have a picnic today, but you have barely touched your tea or the refreshments that I prepared.”

He gestured elaborately towards the picnic basket that had been packed to the brim with glistening, ripe autumn fruits, cucumber sandwiches made of the finest bread, and scones that Ferdinand had baked himself.

Not a single morsel had been consumed.

Dorothea sat upright and raised a single eyebrow at Ferdinand, “I don’t see you gorging yourself on cucumber sandwiches, either, Ferdie, but, now that you mention it, those grapes do look delicious.”

She gracefully plucked a single green grape from its bunch and placed it in her mouth with a movement so slow and deliberate Ferdinand felt as if he was watching a mime.

“Mhmm,” Dorothea flashed a smile that was too bright for comfort at Ferdinand, “Such a delicious grape! You really are an expert at choosing the finest fruit.”

There it was again – that artificial tone. The voice that enunciated every syllable to a melodramatic degree. Everything about her behaviour seemed exaggerated.

A lump formed in Ferdinand’s throat as he watched her attention drift back to the group of gossiping students she had been fixated on before. Her attention once again fading into the miasma of idle gossip. In one go, he downed his cold cup of sweet apple blend, relishing in what he once would have reviled for it eased the heat of tension in his throat and brow.

He mustered his courage and tugged at Dorothea’s sleeve. She turned to face him once again, a small look of surprise on her face. Ferdinand had never been so bold as to touch her like that before.

“You look tired, Dorothea, is the sun beginning to get to you? I do feel as if it is growing warmer.”

He lied. He never lied. But for now, a lie was better than addressing the problem directly. That was just too great a risk.

“Forgive me if my assumption is incorrect, you just seem somewhat distracted.”

Dorothea sighed, “Tired? Hm. Well…I suppose I am a bit, overwhelmed,” she stirred her tea aimlessly, “what with all the excitement for the White Heron Cup and the ball…that’s all…”

Ferdinand felt a wave of relief wash over him: his gamble had paid off.

“Would you perhaps prefer to go somewhere quieter? Inside, maybe?” Ferdinand said as he strategically began to pack away the tea set.

“Well, if you insist,” Dorothea sighed as she handed her delicate porcelain teacup and saucer to Ferdinand, “Why don’t we go to your room?”

The porcelain rattled clumsily in Ferdinand’s usually steady hands.

“Oh, Ferdie,” Dorothea giggled, “No need to get so startled! I only wanted to look at your collection of lances that you were boasting about, to Lorenz, the other day.”

A thousand thoughts began to run through Ferdinand’s mind as if a team of wild horses had been let loose on the plains of Gronder Field. Dorothea had absolutely no interest in weapons. Why would she pretend to now? Why would she ask to go to his room? Did she not know what people would say if they saw her, an unmarried woman, entering the sleeping chambers of an unmarried man?

No, this was Dorothea, of course she knew what people would say.

So…then… _why_?

Ferdinand felt flush with shame.

He took a moment to collect the last remnants of their picnic – as well as his dignity – before finally agreeing to Dorothea’s suggestion.

“It is rare for you to display such an interest in the craftsmanship of weaponry, Dorothea,” Ferdinand cringed at the stiffness in his voice, “it would be remiss of me to let go of such an opportunity.”

The short walk from the gardens back to the dormitories felt like a long journey through the Valley of Torment itself. Not long ago had the glances from his fellow students made his chest swell with great pride, never had he once wished to hide from them. For what was there to hide from? He was to be the noblest of nobles. He would clean the Aegir name from the mud that his father had slung on it.

Yet now, Ferdinand wished he was a nobody. A nobody who would not have to suffer from the burns of the accusatory glares that followed him as he guided Dorothea towards the entrance of the second-floor dormitories. The dormitory’s hallway was vacant – Ferdinand could not help but breathe a sigh of relief at the comfort of being alone. But a spasm of guilt ran through his heart as he pushed the heavy wooden door of his room open.

“After you, Dorothea.” Ferdinand said, with a bow that gestured her into the room, as he finally broke the wall of silence that had built up between them since they had left the garden.

Dorothea walked right into the centre of the room with the deliberate care of an actor making entry onto the stage. With a flourish, she took off her signature hat and hung it upon the bed post. Ferdinand watched her with bated breath as she paused to survey her surroundings. Her eyes scanned every crevice of the room before finally settling on Ferdinand’s mahogany desk that he had brought with him from the Aegir estate.

Dorothea skipped towards it and traced its carvings meticulously with her index finger before picking up the book that had been left there. She clicked her tongue as she examined the spine of the book before flipping it open at the place Ferdinand had marked, she perused the volume’s pages, not as if she were reading, but as if she were searching for something between the leaves and lines. Something that could spark an interest in her green eyes that were glazed over in ennui.

“I didn’t realise you had such an interest in agriculture, Ferdie, this isn’t even on this month’s syllabus, you know.”

“As the future Prime Minister, it is important that I have an interest in all topics that would affect the daily governance and development of Adrestria.”

Dorothea slammed the book shut, “Is that all you ever think about? Becoming Prime Minister?”

Ferdinand frowned as the tone of Dorothea’s voice shifted from listless to glacial, “No,” he said calmly, “but I cannot deny that my time at the Officers’ Academy is to prepare me for my inevitable duty. It would be irresponsible of me to treat this time trivially when so much is at stake in the future. I do not wish to make the same mistakes that –”

“Whatever.” Dorothea tossed the book aside as she sauntered over to the bay windows that overlooked the courtyard.

“It’s not much of a view,” she said flatly as she observed the scene from the window, “I don’t understand why this floor is exclusive to the nobility. Does being a floor higher instil some kind of pride in your kind?” 

With precaution, Ferdinand closed the door to his room halfway before joining Dorothea at the window.

“I do not know.”

Dorothea looked at Ferdinand in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“I never thought of it that way, but now that you have brought the subject to my attention, I suppose I agree with you. It does not make much sense for the dormitory floors to be divided according to rank, at least not in a place such as a Garreg Mach.”

“Don’t joke,” Dorothea scoffed, “You’re telling me you wouldn’t be bothered by sharing a floor with commoners?”

Ferdinand smiled gently at her, “I am sure you already know the answer to that Dorothea, after all, your company is never a bother to me.”

A soft blush coloured the apples of Dorothea’s cheeks, and Ferdinand could not help but smile wider as he admired the first natural expression she had made since they had sat down for tea.

Dorothea tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “Why don’t you get to showing me your lances, Ferdie?”

“Aha,” Ferdinand said as he reached for a silver lance from the weapons mount, “That was what we came up here for, after all, thank you for reminding me…”

The gentle creaking of a door being softly closed shut startled Ferdinand. He looked back from the weapons mount, lance in hand, to see Dorothea perched on the edge of his bed smiling sweetly. A little too sweetly.

“…Dorothea?”

“Hm?”

Ferdinand shifted his gaze from Dorothea then to the door and back to Dorothea again.

“Oh, I just thought that it would better to have some privacy.”

Ferdinand frowned and gestured to the chair besides his desk, “You might be more comfortable sitting over there.”

“Here’s just fine,” Dorothea shone another saccharine smile at him, “this way we can sit next to each other too. Don’t you think?”

She patted the space besides her innocently, inviting Ferdinand to sit besides her. He hesitated. His mind recalled the moment where Dorothea had leaned against him with a brazen discard for propriety. How the feeling of her body against his had made him run cold. How it had scared him in front of the eyes that watched them with reproach.

Now that they were alone, now that there was no one else, what would happen?

Anger and shame coursed through his blood as the thoughts ran through his head. He shook his head, hoping to dispel them from his mind, before he reluctantly allowed himself to sink into the mattress, ensuring there was enough space between himself and Dorothea.

Ferdinand held the lance out across his lap, keeping the blade sheathed, and began to explain the various intricacies of craftmanship to Dorothea. But he knew she cared little for what it was he had to say. He was acutely aware of the fact that the longer he droned on, the more bored she grew with listening about the craftsmanship of lances.

But Ferdinand refused to relent.

He refused to acknowledge the fact that Dorothea was moving ever closer to him with each passing moment.

Refused to acknowledge the gentle brush of her knee against his as she crossed her legs.

Refused to acknowledge her breath against his ear as she leaned closer into him.

He would refuse to give in to her elaborate performance.

But he could not refuse the fault in her acting: the trembling of her hands as she brought his face close to hers.

The fear in her eyes as she prepared herself for what she believed to be the inevitable.

The tremor in her cold lips as she kissed him.

He would not kiss her back.

“Dorothea,” Ferdinand gently took hold of her shaking wrist as he pulled away from her, “if we go any further then it will make the lies people say about us true.”

Dorothea froze in place. Her eyes widened in despair at the meaning of his words. She drew back, cringing, her head hanging so low her hair became a curtain over her face. Yet, Ferdinand retained his hold on her wrist, he brought her hand in the palm of his own and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Why?” Dorothea’s voice was barely a whisper, “Why are you rejecting me?”

Ferdinand’s heart sank in his stomach like a great weight being plunged under cool, dark water.

_“Don’t talk to me like you know me, Ferdinand!”_

The words rang in Ferdinand’s head as loud as a church bell.

He squeezed Dorothea’s hand once again, “Because you have been forcing yourself the entire time we have been together today. You have let idle gossip seize your attention and push you into a pretence. I cannot sit by and let you do this to yourself. It is not right.”

The words felt like poison on Ferdinand’s tongue. He knew that no matter how he phrased his answer, anything he said would hurt her - would feel as if he was invading her most private thoughts once again.

But Dorothea had crossed the line first.

“Besides,” he continued at length, “You do not want this, and neither do I.”

From beneath the curtain of hair Dorothea let out a weak laugh, “What _is_ it that you want, Ferdinand?”

He flinched. There was nothing that he had come to resent more than Dorothea referring to his by his proper name. 

“I do not understand what you mean.” He answered a touch too firmly.

“Don’t play dumb,” Dorothea retorted through gritted teeth, “What do you want?”

She was looking directly at Ferdinand now: her eyes ablaze with a rage that he had not seen in so long.

“Don’t act like a choir boy, Ferdinand.” she seethed, “Ever since the day we met, you’ve showered me with all kinds of flattery, chased after me with invitations to tea, you’ve been buzzing around like a bee!

“But now that you have my attention, now that I have entertained your flattery, now that I’ve practically _thrown_ myself upon you, you reject me. Why? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”

Dorothea’s hand dropped from Ferdinand’s grip like a stone. He rose from the bed with a quiet anger and began to pace the length of the room in order to calm himself down. He could not afford to lose his temper in such a situation. He had to be rational like the true noble he was.

Even though Dorothea had abandoned all sense of rationality to her rage, he would not do the same. He would not seek to hurt her out of spite.

He would not give her an opportunity to prove her right.

But it was like fighting a losing battle.

He could not stomach the fact that Dorothea believed his earnest attempts to earn her friendship were a sham to seduce her.

Did he really present himself in such a manner?

Ferdinand loosened his collar, tore of his silk gloves, and ran a restless hand through his hair.

In this moment, even his appearance felt like a sham.

Meanwhile, Dorothea sat in utter silence. Unmoving. As if entirely unaffected by the inferno that raged inside of Ferdinand.

“Under any other circumstances I would apologise, Dorothea, but I cannot apologise for something I have not done. My intentions with you have never been anything but sincere. I had hoped that we had moved past that point by know, that you were beginning to trust me, but I see now that my efforts were in vain.”

“You sound like Sylvain,” Dorothea snapped.

Ferdinand stopped in his tracks, aghast, “That is a falsehood, Dorothea, and you know it. I am absolutely nothing like that dishonourable, arrogant, and lying _philanderer_!”

“No!” Dorothea screamed at him, “You are so much worse. At least Sylvain would have the decency to screw me first before throwing me out like garbage, just like all the other nobles. You just want to humiliate me. Put me in my place, isn’t it? Is that why you’re always prattling on about how GREAT your house is, and how you will be the next Prime Minister of the Adrestian Empire? So, you can remind me how much of a divide exists between your esteemed noble self and my lowly commoner status.

“Now you’ve really given everybody something to talk about. I doubt I’ll hear the end of the great tale of how the great Ferdinand von Aegir rebuffed the advances of the Dorothea Arnault, Mystical Songstress, and _cheap tart._ ”

Ferdinand bit down on his lip so hard he could taste blood. Oh, his arrogance! How it had marred all the progress he thought he had made. How it had instilled Dorothea with such anxiety. He rushed to her side, kneeling down besides her, and taking both of her hands in his own

“Dorothea, I am not what you fear I am,” his voice was pleading, as if on the verge of tears, “Please, believe me. I do not mean to humiliate you. I wish to pro-.”

Dorothea pushed him back with a fierce shove, “Shut up. You know what I am. Everyone in this damned place knows what I am. I don’t need you to protect me from the truth - I live with it every day of my life - nor do I need your pity.”

“Don’t ever talk to me again, Ferdinand,” she rose from the bed and headed towards the door, “It was a mistake – this whole play at being friends.”

With one swift movement she had opened the door and slammed it firmly shut behind her. All that was left of her presence was the resounding echo of the slamming of the door that rung in Ferdinand’s ears as he remained kneeling on the floor, and the hat that Dorothea had left hanging on the bed post in her hurry to get away from him.

Ferdinand buried his face in his hands. He so desperately wanted to tear the door open and chase Dorothea down the halls, but he knew that no matter how hard he tried, pleaded, begged, to her it would all seem like an elaborate act to seduce her.

One day, maybe, she would let go of whatever it was that she held deep within her heart that led her to see him that way, but today was not that day.

“Maybe that day will never come,” he whispered to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> So...this one was a super tough one for me to write. Ferdinand's perspective is hella difficult, but I was also damn nervous with the subject matter I was dealing with and portraying Dorothea in this way. I didn't really want to publish it but the other fics I've got on my hard drive kind of allude to this event, so I felt like I needed to write it.
> 
> Anyway, I apologise for how angsty this is! lol I promise the next one will be much sweeter (if you stick around and don't hate for it).
> 
> Stay safe kids!


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